


It's The Start of Something New

by redflowerblooming



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Presents, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 21:56:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2523155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redflowerblooming/pseuds/redflowerblooming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter is surprised when Stiles comes to visit him.  Turns out, there's a lot more going on today than Peter originally thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's The Start of Something New

**Author's Note:**

> For those who don't know, according to the Teen Wolf Calendar, these birthdays are as follows:
> 
> Peter Hale - October 27
> 
> Stiles Stilinski - June 6
> 
> Happy Steter Week, everyone!!

  Peter couldn’t remember the last time he actually celebrated anything – before the fire, certainly, but even then it all seemed rather hazy.  The Winter Solstice was probably the last _real_ holiday the pack celebrated before that horrible night.

 

  They had all gathered, the entire pack – even those that weren’t from the area – to hold the festivities for the Wolf Moon.  How were any of them to know what would take place that night?  Therefore, it had been quite some time since he really had anything to want to _party_ about.

 

  Even if he _had_ wanted to, it’s not like it mattered.  Ever since his stint of becoming the Alpha, losing that status to his nephew, dying and then coming back, he was always on the fringe of things.  Perhaps that wasn’t so unusual though, even before the fire and even when he was considerably younger, Peter had been _different_ from everyone else.  Not only was he significantly younger than his older siblings, and perhaps that was a contributing factor, but he usually preferred being by himself – a ‘lone wolf’, pardon the expression. 

 

  When he tried to interact with others they would either outright reject him or avoid him, so eventually he learned to manipulate others.  Once this happened, he could either get into anything he liked; who could push away such a charming young man?  If anyone happened to notice what he was doing, well, he would just find a way around it, after all, he wouldn’t want to anger his _dear_ older sister now would he?  Especially not since his parents had died and _she_ had inherited the Alpha power – power that should’ve gone to _him_ , the clear choice in both strength and intelligence, a natural born leader.  Instead, it had gone to Talia and he had to play being content with being her Left Hand, the shadow adjacent to the throne.

 

  Then of course, Derek’s little ‘fling’ destroyed everything.  Eleven people died that night, his sister and her husband, Derek and Laura’s other siblings, not to mention the rest of the pack who weren’t even from the area and their cubs.  Everyone had been preparing for the next day, getting ready to sleep in the large den hidden beneath the house by the underground tunnels.  They had taken sleeping bags, blankets, even some air mattresses and pillows, all to gather together as the ultimate form of ‘pack’.

 

  Trying to maintain his image, Peter decided to sneak out and sleep in his room – let Talia deal with the whole of the pack on her own.  He didn’t really mind being around the others, but except for the youngest of them, most had that same attitude of not knowing where to place him, so he retreated to his bedroom so he could have some peace without being surrounded, wanting an escape if he needed it.  Little did he know that his action was the only thing that saved him that night.

 

  The hunters must’ve thought everyone was in the Den, they hadn’t bothered checking the house or sticking around.  Derek had been out with _her_ , and Laura had been at some senior party – Peter only learned much later that Cora had gotten into a fight with one of her cousins and had gone off to sulk in the woods.

 

  He had been asleep when he felt an intense heat that hadn’t made any sense – it was the middle of January, not the peak of summer.  That was when he realized that it _burned_ , the pain so intense that he let out a scream.  Pieces of his skin were flaking off under the flames, and the smoke was thick, choking him and obscuring his vision.  He somehow managed to push himself off the bed and get out of his room, the door knob burning a circle into his palm.  Since he had lived here all his life, it wasn’t hard to figure out how to get out – his room was on the ground floor anyways.  It was hard for him to remember now what happened after.  He knew he tried to get into the tunnels, to open the metal grating to get the pack out, but the hunters had welded it shut, covering the entry with mountain ash.  The next thing he knew he was on a stretcher screaming … then nothing. 

 

  After being stuck in a coma for six years, certain things in life just come into perspective, like the fact that partying doesn’t seem to matter anymore after almost your entire family has been murdered.  So, when he’s just browsing through some rare books he’s just bought, it comes as quite a surprise that someone starts knocking on his door in the middle of the afternoon. 

 

  He debates just ignoring the sound, but even when it continues for a few moments and then suddenly stops, he can still smell them waiting outside.  Deciding that it shouldn’t waste too much of his time if he goes to see, he leaves his study and goes to the front door.   “What do you want?”

 

  “Aww, is that any way to treat someone who comes to pay you a visit?”  It’s Stiles’ voice; Peter can practically hear the smirk in his tone.

 

  He opens the door then, surprised, but schooling his features into a look of nonchalance.  “Stiles? How did you even find my apartment?”

 

  “Wasn’t that hard, you said you lived downtown, and I’m the sheriff’s kid – lets me get into a lot of things other people don’t know about.”  He’s full-blown grinning now, hair slightly messy and a red hoodie on, carrying a shopping bag in his right hand.  “You gonna let me in or what?”

 

  “Is there any particular reason I should?  Going to slip some wolfsbane into my tea or trap me with mountain ash?”  Peter’s not really in the mood to play games, at this point he’d rather be left alone. 

 

  “What, a guy can’t stop by your super-secret hideout and be friendly?  Besides, I’ve got something for you~!”  Stiles looks damned pleased with himself, and Peter supposes of all the other guest possibilities, Stiles is actually one of the highest on the list.  He’s only occasionally annoying, and he’s by far the most intelligent and cunning of Scott’s so-called ‘pack’.

 

  Peter lets out a small sigh, and steps aside, gesturing inside to show that he doesn’t care.  Stiles waltzes right in, like he owns the place, letting out a low whistle when he sees all the expensive amenities Peter has.  Stiles looks especially envious of the entertainment set – kind of like he wants to try it out, but resists at the last minute. 

 

  “Stiles, what do you want?”  While Peter is intrigued by his presence, he’s also a little wary – the boy did set him on fire again, after all. 

 

  Stiles has already gone ahead and made himself comfortable in Peter’s kitchen – the man definitely has nice taste, Stiles is pretty sure that the kitchen alone is worth most of the stuff in his house.  He’s started taking some Tupperware out of the shopping bag, but turns around when he hears Peter.  He’s stopped smiling now, and instead his expression has softened into something undefinable.  “I came to spend time with you, Peter.  Is that so bad?” 

 

  “Considering that most of the time you completely _dis_ -trust me, then I would say, yes, it’s a little strange.”  Peter’s not sure why he’s being so defensive all of a sudden, usually he _likes_ bantering with Stiles.  It’s like a brainteaser being wrapped in a sarcastic teenage body.  For some reason though, Stiles is looking at him like he knows what’s going on, and that’s starting to piss Peter off.

 

  Suddenly, Stiles is smiling again, almost as if he’s trying to avoid whatever comes next.  “Look, I made peanut butter-chocolate brownies!” He presents the Tupperware proudly before setting it on the counter.  “Using my super-secret detective powers, I managed to obtain information on your love for Reese’s.  A love that I wholeheartedly share, I may add.”  When he turned around again though, he noticed Peter didn’t look any more interested in his cooking, and in fact looked closer to ‘murdering-psychotic alpha’ than anything else.  Stiles sighed, he had hoped that this would’ve gone a lot smoother than it was turning out, but, oh well, that was his life.  “You don’t know what today is?”

 

  “It’s  Monday – And what would be so important about that?”

 

  “It’s October 27th.”  When all Stiles received from that statement was a blank, yet heavily annoyed stare, he knew this was about to be an uncomfortable experience.  “Peter… today’s your _birthday_.”

 

************************

 

Those words echo in his skull, bouncing around until they settle into a recognizable pattern – into something that makes sense.   Stiles’ sudden presence seemed logical now, although still a bit confusing.  He _had_ forgotten, though it’s not like it mattered when most of his family was dead, the remaining didn’t really want anything to do with him, and he had no friends to speak of.  It was as if Peter was standing still, while everything else was rushing around him.  Even though it had been more than six years since the fire, it was still fresh in his mind, he was still trapped in its shadow.

 

   Now that he _did_ remember, it just brought a wave of pain – fleeting memories of celebrating when he was younger, with his family, Talia looking stern but not-so-secretly planning everything herself.  He had been – was – bitter, but he had never _hated_ her… she was his sister, after all. “Thank you for informing me, but I still fail to see how that equates to this _pleasan_ t visit.”

 

  Stiles looked slightly guilty by now.  “Look, I know the pack has been – let’s face it – really shitty to you.  In our defense, you did go on a killing spree, and seemed ready to turn on us at any moment.”  He raised his eyebrow pointedly.  “But – you haven’t tried to kill anyone close to us since, and nobody deserves to be alone on their birthday.” 

 

  He’s smiling earnestly now, like he actually believes what he’s saying.  Peter thinks he should feel nauseous, but somehow all he feels is this tiny warmth in the pit of his belly.  He relaxes a tiny bit, it’s not like the boy came to kill him, but Stiles is already speaking again.  “I don’t think you’re that bad anymore.  Not just mentally!  But, like, you mostly just seem… I don’t know… kind of lonely.”

 

  Peter’s face just sorts of shuts down for a minute – Stiles instantly regrets even opening his mouth.  What he wouldn’t give to have some kind of freaking _filter_ once in a while.  “Ugh… forget I said anything!  Here, have a brownie!”  He shoves the Tupperware container towards Peter, embarrassment overriding everything else at the moment, flushing slightly.

 

  He took the container, and decided to see what the boy had concocted for him.  Taking the top off, a delicious, warm scent drifted out – Peter thought it wouldn’t hurt if he just tried _one_.  He took a bite… and it was the most wonderful thing he had ever tasted.  It was almost like a Reese’s, only softer and warm.  “I might just be in love with you for this,” Peter moaned out.

 

  Stiles face flushed even darker, a brilliant scarlet now instead of a pale rose.  “T-thanks.”  He had been fidgeting while waiting for Peter to try his cooking, nervous he wasn’t going to like it.  As Peter stood clutching the container like someone was going to steal it from him, Stiles remembered that he still hadn’t given Peter his _actual_ present yet.  He turns back and digs around in the shopping bag, pulling out a large square-shaped object covered in obnoxious birthday balloon wrapping paper, topped with a shiny red bow.  “Ta-da~!  Happy birthday, Peter!”  He smiling so wide now, it’s almost ridiculous, holding the gift out in front of him, offering it to the older man.

 

  Peter had finished the brownie, and was giving Stiles another confused look.  “You got me a present? Stiles, you didn’t have to get me anything.”  Since they never spent any time together, he wasn’t even sure how he had gotten all this information.  He put the Tupperware aside, taking the present, expecting some kind of gag gift – which seemed like the kind of thing Stiles would do.  Sliding his claws out, he neatly ripped the wrapping paper off, revealing the smooth cover underneath, and letting the wrapping paper fall to the floor. 

 

  The cover is a kind of faux leather, soft but lacking the same consistency and smell that real leather has.  There is no writing on the front or back, but as soon as he opens it… everything seems to grind to a halt.  It’s not a novel, but a kind of scrap book.  There are pictures of his family: Derek as a toddler, Laura in her prom dress, Cora in diapers, along with Talia and the rest of the family. 

 

  They aren’t arranged in any particular order, it’s just a look back on his life, some of the pictures are so old they’re still in black & white or that faded sepia tone – photos of his parents and grandparents, the many generations of the pack.  Most of the pictures have smudges or even large sections burnt off; they’re all remnants of what must’ve been salvaged from the fire.  Peter was in a coma at the time, so he hasn’t seen them at all, and it’s unlikely that Derek or Laura had seen them, probably too painful at the time.

 

  He keeps flipping through the pages, there are other things in here besides pictures, recipe notecards all with different handwriting; some were in the beautiful loops his grandmother made, some in his mother’s hasty scrawl, and there were even a few in his own handwriting – the ones he had started when Talia had showed a lack of talent in cooking.  Peter’s hands are shaking as he traces over them, the things that were once so familiar to him, and were now tainted by ash and smoke – every single item in the book shows some traces of the fire. 

 

  Peter feels like he would be crying, if he could, but he’s pretty sure he lost that ability a long time ago.  He looks up and stares at Stiles, his expression at once serious and yet so vulnerable.  “Where—?”  He can’t even finish the question, his throat tightening suddenly.

 

  Peter doesn’t need to, Stiles understands what he meant.  “They were recovered after… everything.  You were in a coma, and nobody knew where Derek and Laura were, so they were kept in a box at the Sheriff’s station. “  Stiles’ face looks sad now, with some sort of misplaced guilt.  “It’s been there all this time, since everyone thought it was just an accident they just forgot about it, piled under other boxes.  After all that’s happened, I started looking through some of my dad’s stuff, and I just found it under there, shoved in the back.”  He sighs, running a hand through his hair, mussing it up a little.  “I started looking through them,” Stiles’ eyes widen slightly, “I’m sorry!  I didn’t mean to personally violate your memories or anything!  I was going through them, and later I talked to Derek and he didn’t seem to want them and when he told me your birthday was soon… I just thought… that maybe, you’d want to have them…”  His voice trails off, unsure, fearing a rebuke worse than what he’d received so far.

 

  Peter’s hands are trembling visibly now, he closes the book and sets it aside on the counter.  He slowly approaches Stiles, and the boy flinches, expecting to be hit.  Instead, when he’s close enough, Peter’s arms wrap around him tightly.  For half a second, Stiles thinks Peter has decided to become an anaconda and his first goal is to full-body strangle him.  Then, he hears two words he _never_ expected to hear.  “Thank you.  Stiles, _thank you_.”  It’s after this that Stiles realizes he isn’t being strangled, he’s being _hugged_.   He hesitantly wraps his arms around Peter, returning the hug.

 

  “Uhh… No problem, dude.  Thought you’d want it since no one else did.”  Peter’s face is really close to his… Stiles hadn’t noticed before that they were practically the same height.  If he turned his face slightly to the left, they’d almost be able to kiss.  That has him flushing a deep crimson, _what the hell was he thinking?_  

 

  Peter didn’t know what the boy was thinking, he could smell the faint scent of arousal, but it didn’t tell him what it was for.  He just never expected anything like this.  After his brief stint as the Alpha, and his resurrection, finding something left over from the fire seemed impossible.  Then, to get this, was far beyond anything he could’ve imagined.  He had noticed the boy before, there was more than one reason why he had been so interested in him from the beginning.   Stiles was clever, sarcastic, and attractive, though most of the others his age seemed totally oblivious to it.  Unlike what most people would think, he had never gone after the boy for very practical reasons.  Stiles was too young, the _Sheriff’s_ son, and would most likely think him a pedophile.  Contrary to popular belief, Peter did still have somewhat of a moral compass. 

 

  After everything that happened with Peter, both before and after his role as Alpha, Stiles began to relate to more than distance himself from the older man.  Many of Peter’s plans were actually pretty good, and even Stiles wasn’t against getting rid of their problems _permanently_ , unlike the others like Derek or Scott.  He felt a kind of kinship with Peter, they could think on the same wavelength, Peter understood him, and dammit the older man was _very_ attractive.  So, when Peter tilts his face toward Stiles, looking at him… his brain goes off-line and he leans forward, pressing his mouth to Peter’s.

 

  Stiles realizes what he’s doing a split second after he does, and tries to pull away – C’mon, he’s totally taking advantage of a guy who just got back his lost family memories, what kind of a weirdo is he?  However, he is prevented from doing that when Peter’s hand cups the back of Stiles’ head and pulls him closer, leaning into the kiss instead of away from it.  It’s slow and sensual, not fiery and rough like Stiles would’ve expected, but then again he guesses it matches the situation.  Their tongues slide against one another, mouths moving slowly.  Suddenly, Peter pulls away, but when Stiles opens his eyes, Peter is smiling.

 

  “Stiles… you’ve given me back a part of myself from before I changed.  I was a very different person before the fire, and now I don’t think I could ever go back to that, but now, at least, I have a reminder of what I once was.”  He leans forward again, pressing their lips together quickly, “Thank you.”  Stiles must look confused, because Peter laughs and says, “I didn’t kiss you because I’m thankful!  Though, I do think we have _a lot_ to talk about.”  Peter takes one of Stiles’ hands in his, and tugs on it, leading him towards the living room. 

 

  Peter feels lighter than he has in a _long_ time, and he thinks it’s almost like being happy.  There’s a whisper of something from his wolf, but he doesn’t feel like trying to analyze it right now – it can wait until later.  This... whatever’s developing between them now, he wants to nurture it , instead of destroying it like every other time.  Maybe, with Stiles, he might be able to find that piece that’s always been missing.  And, with the way the boy’s looking at him now, Peter definitely thinks he’ll have fun trying. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first official fic I've ever uploaded! It was supposed to be mostly fluff, but somehow it came out pretty angsty... Oh, well. 
> 
> If you want, you can find me on tumblr by the same name -redflowerblooming


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